A layer of pale white light film slowly lit up on Lin Xin's body.
The two stood opposite each other, only about a dozen meters apart.
Song Jing slowly raised the longsword in his hand, and in the middle of the blade, there was a clear black symbol.
"Junior Brother Lin, even if you can maintain the magic artifact's defense, how long can you last without enough inner strength?"
He smiled, "Why don't we sit down and have a good talk? As fellow disciples of the Formation Hall, I don't really want to fight you. It was originally just a commission, but now it seems your strength has exceeded my expectations... The price previously mentioned no longer applies...."
"Are you trying to buy time?" Lin Xin saw the symbol on the blade in his hand and became vigilant.
